Last night I had a dream. Its central focus was my grandmother. I pictured her wearing the faded yellow apron that she used to wear, the kind of apron that was square and tied around her waist at the back, with a faded floral design on the front.
While most of the dream consisted of me driving her around New Orleans, passing through Audubon Park, taking her to visit with her friends, the end result of the dream was a reinforcement of the power of grandmother love, the genuine family-nurturing love she radiated throughout a room.
The details of the dream aren't important, but what was important was the steadfast, healing, comforting love she had towards me and towards all her grandchildren, even the children of her next door neighbors.
The faded yellow apron was a symbol of that love. It's hard to describe the peaceful, calming, and encouraging effects derived from the dream reminding me of how I looked forward to visiting with her every Saturday, experiencing that rich outpouring of grandmother love, accompanied by a cookie or two.
It was just a dream, of course. Or was it?
